Mar 08

To See or Not To See – That Is the Question

Purist might believe a true literary experience occurs with the left hand holding book and the right dutifully turning thick pages of print. Generally, I agree except for Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita read by Jeremy Irons. I vote this one better to be heard by the gifted actor’s deep resonating voice and not seen. Here are a few things when considering the choice of print or sound.

The Structure of Black and White

In every list of the best books, Nabokov’s Lolita is present. This book published over fifty years ago presents a forbidden topic wrapped in beautiful prose which is shocking and endearing at the same time. The opening sentences are pure power – “Lolita, light of life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.”

The reader knows of tragedy to come and embraces the journey to discover why the narrator says, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.” Humbert Humbert’s obsessions are repulsive and disgusting to readers, yet he suffers a growing paranoia for his premeditations, actions and results. However, HH somehow manages to be sympathetic, even pitiful, in the skilled hands of Nabokov. The character, neither villain nor hero, fills a new space as the anti-hero, anguishing and lamenting for the beauty and loss of his young love, his captive, Dolores Haze.

If you do read the words, the black and white sentences jig and jag spilling over to the next line and the next with semi-colons inserted as the author’s favorite punctuation mark. I appreciate well placed clauses as much as the next writer and find Nabokov full of surprise and tantalizing sentence structure. Masterful combinations are only fully absorbed by the eyes – otherwise melting into an auditory symphony of words. Now that I have finished the novel, I am ruined for anything less than prose perfection.

Beyond the Book

One invaluable thing in the book is a chronology of Nabokov’s life from birth to death with a column for literary context and historical events. I confirm Nabokov’s birth in St. Petersburg and the brief overlap of his life with Russian greats Tolstoy and Chekhov. He was almost a teenager during the Russian Revolution and published his first book of poems during World War I at the age of seventeen. The family fled and went into exile while Vladimir studied at Cambridge. When Joyce published Ulysses and Eliot published The Waste Land in 1922, Nabokov’s father was assassinated in Berlin.

So, it is odd to me that Nabokov lived or continued to live in Berlin from 1925-1937. He published nine novels in Russian, moved to Paris and then the United States in 1940, the same year Hemingway published For Whom the Bell Tolls. As my son now considers colleges for study, it catches my attention that Nabokov taught at Wellesley and then Cornell. During this time, he published his next novel in English. His spectacular writing in English must rival his native Russian language.

Shortly after the year of Stalin’s death, Lolita was published in 1955 by a Parisian publisher of explicit material because the established major publishers feared the public’s reaction to this novel’s subject matter. In 1958, Pasternak published Doctor Zhivago, one of my mother-in-law’s favorites (on my list to read or watch the 1965 film). One year later, Nabokov resigned from Cornell and moved to Switzerland. In the final decade of Nabokov’s life, Bulgakov published The Master and Margarita.

Hearing is Believing

Better than attending a three hour play or watching a film, I lived this novel for precisely eleven and a half hours – over two weeks commuting to work. The deep baritone voice of the British actor disrupted my usual car audio listening vibe. As Jeremy Irons raced through the Forward at a clip faster than I usually listen, talk or think, I weaved in my highway lane, resetting the base to low and going back to tweak the treble eventually to high before I could comfortably listen to the recording. I had just achieved the perfect balance when I heard “. . . a classic in psychiatric circles . . . the wayward child, the egotistic mother, the panting maniac – these are not only vivid characters in a unique story; they warn us of dangerous trends; they point out potent evils.” The warning added an extra writer-ly chill to my January morning. I debated whether to turn back and stop, but I trusted a gifted actor with an-oh-so-marvelous voice.  Jeremy Irons became Humbert Humbert, transforming mere words on a page, unfolding the story and revealing the depth of depravity and desperation – hence the panting maniac..

National Public Radio, in a fiftieth year anniversary of Lolita, interviewed Cornell staff about Nabokov. The author traveled the United States and used the travel experiences for Lolita. He also frequently rode the public transit and listened to the communication style of Lolita-aged girls taking notes on index cards. It is said Nabokov wrote the entire novel on index cards and pieced the story together. The car ride after HH picks up Dolores Haze from summer camp shows his research with perfectly timed teenage sarcasm, irreverence and awkward interactions.

This audio book delivers bursts of humor such as the first overnight hotel stay. HH misinterprets the questions of a drunk on the front porch. Irons is brilliant in reading this little exchange in Chapter 28 which highlights the beginning of HH’s well-deserved paranoia.

‘Where the devil did you get her?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said: the weather is getting better.’

‘Seems so.’

‘Who’s the lassie?’

‘My daughter.’

‘You lie – she’s not.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said: July was hot.’

The audio book succeeds where the 1962 Stanley Kubrick film did not. The film, however, unites Jeremy Irons with the work, the actor cast for HH in the film and a natural for the recording. His reading is acting and makes this one of the best audio book recordings I’ve heard to date.

Mar 06

This Is Us

 

“Do the one thing they always tell writers not to do. Watch T.V.”  From 99 Ways to Get Inspired to Write by Smart Blogger

You may discover interesting plot ideas in television shows; however, some programs may teach you about good quality writing.

Watching the television show, “This Is Us,” may help you learn to use flashbacks as well as flash-forwards effectively in your writing. If you’re not familiar with this show, please view it starting from the first episode. There was a jaw-dropping revelation in the last scene that set the pace for future episodes. When I viewed that episode and others a second time several weeks later, I picked up on the foreshadowing I missed the first time around.

This drama weaves the past and present seamlessly in every hour-long episode while portraying humor, diversity, obesity, career crises, abandonment, family dynamics, panic attacks, and death with an abundance of love, emotion, and passion.

Writers for this program are superb. They create surprising moments in every episode. A clue to the heart of the series is found on a lamp table in a seemingly insignificant photo of three apparent friends. This well-placed clue reminds me of a child’s shoe tossed aside and ignored in Mary Higgins Clark’s novel, Where Are the Children?

Without giving away the plot of “This Is Us,” I ask you to take notice of what a fireman did, now illegal, while standing in a hospital waiting room. I later realized that scene was a flashback. The superb writers returned later to that character, revealed his backstory and his significant connection to the main characters.

The appearance of a family friend in a different role, surprised me and generated extensive, detailed discussions the next day with avid fans of the show.

When you view the show, take note of the way the writers interweave the past with the present. You can learn good writing from them.

 

Mar 05

First Experience with Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Note:  There are spoilers in this article.

As far as immersing myself in a brand-new game goes, Resident Evil 7 proved to be an interesting experience.  In the weeks leading up to its release, every new bit of information got me eager to begin playing.  Though it would not feature any of the established characters in the series – with one possible exception – I thought it would be refreshing to play as newcomer Ethan Winters, a non-combatant in search of his wife, Mia, who was believed to be dead for three years.

As soon as I downloaded the game on the more advanced of my two computers, I booted it up eager to start playing.  I was highly disappointed when the game crashed each time I tried to start it.  After three unsuccessful attempts, I determined that I would likely have to wait until I got a newer and more state-of-the-art computer before I could delve into the world of Resident Evil 7.

Despite my determination to stay spoiler-free, I couldn’t resist watching YouTube videos detailing the game and all its secrets.  While not the same as experiencing it first-hand, I still enjoyed the story, spooky atmosphere, and a few twists and turns along the way.  And I began to imagine ways in which this new installment ties in with previous games in the series.

I was resigned to writing a critical essay about Resident Evil 7 without actually playing the game.  But I was surprised when I found out on February 7th that the game would run on my more substandard computer.  I would liken it to trying to play a DVD with a VCR, but the game still ran all the way through without crashing.  I’m not sure what inspired me to try and start it, but I’m glad I did.

There were however several glitches present that made it interesting, such as a porch swing that looked like it was having an epileptic fit or seeing Mia’s hair literally flapping all over the place during a speedboat ride.  Perhaps the most disturbing glitch was seeing Ethan’s hands completely coated in blood before he’d even wandered into the dangerous house where much of the action takes place.

Examples of the game glitches encountered, and the perfect piece of toast in the bottom left.

In spite of the bugs, I still found the game enjoyable.  I’m glad to have gotten a chance to play it myself.  Since I’m someone who prefers to take their time and look around in detail, I observed quite a lot about the environment and what it tells about the characters.  One thing that I found humorous during my exploration was a perfectly-preserved piece of toast that seemed quite out of place in the decayed, moldy plantation where the game is set.

The villains, like the hero, are also new to the Resident Evil series.  In this outing, you must square off against the deranged Baker family – Jack, Marguerite, and their son, Lucas – and an evil genetically-engineered girl named Eveline who is capable of controlling people after she infects them with a mold-like virus.  There are moments where the Bakers seem to act of their own accord, so I’m inclined to think that Eveline’s victims come around to her way of thinking after a lengthy exposure.

On the other hand, Mia seems capable of fighting Eveline’s control, though she was the first to be infected.  This seems to suggest that Mia – and Jack and Marguerite’s daughter, Zoe – is more strong-willed or somewhat immune to the effects.  To clarify, Mia was part of a team in charge of transporting Eveline from one science facility to another when the latter somehow escaped containment.  This resulted in the destruction of the tanker they were aboard, which subsequently drifted into the bayou bordering the Baker’s home.

Not much is known about the Baker family and what their lives were like before Eveline entered the picture, but there are little things about their house or mannerisms that tell something of their respective backgrounds.  For instance, Lucas is quite skilled at engineering according to the trophies in his bedroom, though his journal entries tell that he was a psychotic killer even before Eveline got to him.  In addition, Marguerite’s biggest passion is cooking, but she gets offended because her meals, repulsive to normal people, are refused.  It’s hard to guess at Jack’s background, but it is known he is a former Marine.  Some of his hobbies may have included hunting or taxidermy.

You might ask what this story has to do with any of the previous games in the series, but I feel there are some interesting connections.  Perhaps the biggest setup for this scenario is tied into what Derek Simmons, the high-ranking NSA agent and main antagonist of Resident Evil 6, proclaimed in his final hours: “You have no idea what would happen if I die!”  As villainous as Simmons was – he did assassinate the U.S. President, after all – it is possible that he was holding a greater threat in check.  Just maybe, his demise paved the way for the organization that created Eveline.

Another interesting connection between Resident Evil 7 and its predecessors is how closely the Baker plantation resembles the Spencer mansion from the very first game.  A work order found in one of the plantation’s rooms reveals that the Bakers had hired an architecture firm named after the ill-fated George Trevor, the builder of the mansion.  It’s curious why the Bakers chose George’s style and inclination to create puzzle-based rooms meant to hide secret passageways for their own house, but there may be a simple explanation for this.  I think it’s possible the Bakers might somehow be related to the Trevor family; maybe they wanted to honor George’s vision.

There are also some oddities about this game that hint at a much larger picture.  For one thing, it’s curious how or why such a large ship went unnoticed for three years.  However, Ethan discovers some documentation inside a mine late in the game that indicates Lucas was somehow “freed” from Eveline’s control and was secretly monitoring her for the benefit of an unknown party.  It would be quite the twist if Lucas were one of the good guys despite the insane death traps he stages for some of the characters taken hostage by his family.

Even more puzzling is the military team who comes to the aid of Ethan (and Mia if she survived) at the very end of the game.  This team is aboard a helicopter that has an updated logo of the Umbrella Corporation, the corrupt pharmaceutical company responsible for starting the bioterrorism war.  What’s weirder is that one of the soldiers introduces himself to Ethan as Redfield, and the closing credits show Redfield’s first name to be Chris.

I am unsure what to make of this ending, but my imagination is in overdrive and my mind is filled with countless questions.  Is the Umbrella Corporation somehow back in play?  Are they the good guys now?  Is Chris Redfield, one of their long-standing opponents, really working for them, or is it just an imposter using his name?  I am certain these questions will be answered once Resident Evil 7’s expansion pack titled Not a Hero comes out in the spring, but I will be anxiously awaiting some resolution until then.

What I like most about Resident Evil 7 is how it uses the formula made popular by the early games.  There are puzzles you need to solve to advance through the house/game, limited inventory space that forces you to decide what to carry with you or store for later, and the requirement to save your ammo for when you really need it.  I failed a bit at the last one and was down to only one Magnum bullet and a limited amount of flamethrower fuel for the final fight; as if that wasn’t bad enough, I got eaten whole by the last monster when I stupidly stopped firing for a couple seconds.

All things considered, I didn’t do too shabby for my first playthrough, but I was really struggling to survive my third fight with a mutated Jack Baker.  Though I was sure I was going to get killed, I somehow managed to make it through in one piece.  In the end, I only died twice in the whole game.  And that was just on the easiest difficulty setting.  I shudder to think what the hardest difficulty will be like, but I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.

Mar 01

Editor’s Note: Writing isn’t the Difficult Step

So far this year, Deadwood Writers members have been actively publishing books and articles for a wider audience. Here are the books:

This list simply adds to the ongoing list of work produced by those who call themselves Deadwood Writers. Publishing work is a great accomplishment. Anyone who has done so can attest to that. But the work has only begun.

Writing isn’t the difficult step. Yes, it’s challenging, sometimes it feels impossible. Also, there are many who start and never finish. I have several incomplete manuscripts along my journey. But in relative terms, once the book is written and published, now there are the logistics of getting others to notice and read the book.

To put this in context, once someone is published, they have to sell their books. Get others to see the value of taking the time to buy the book and read it. Hopefully enough people like what they read and post a positive review.

There’s just the minor detail of getting one’s book noticed.

Creating and executing a marking plan is crucial. Rarely, and I do mean RARELY, does the publisher provide a marking budget that supports the author’s travels and their direct communications to the public. They do promote the book on their website and send it out to various media agencies, but the book is likely bundled with other’s books.

The best marketing is done by the author. No one is, or shouldn’t be, as passionate about the book as the author. Otherwise, the book is D.O.A.

Marketing requires a plan to get the message out to others. Using social media. Getting early reviews that are positive. And many more needs. One of the best steps I took for preparing my book, So All Can Learn: A Practical Guide to Differentiation is hired Sylvia Hubbard for a one hour coaching session to address any needs that I might not have considered. Sylvia provided me with an abundance of strategies and ideas from her own extensive experiences (https://sylviahubbard.com).

The website is up for So All Can Learn (www.soallcanlearn.org). I am currently lining up presentations and talks on the topic of my book, so that people who attend will get a sneak peak of the treasures they’ll find within.

Once you have a plan, implement and commit to it. The marketing work never ends.

Feb 23

Dog On Me

Half the time I’ve been walking this earth, there’s been a dog walking next to me. Gracie and Joker, both female, are my two constant companions these days. They’re both mutts, both were rescued and we got them about a year apart, Gracie first in 2007, making her the Alpha Female. At 55 pounds, she’s 15 pounds heavier than Joker. Gracie is a Lab, all black with a white beard, a tiny white blaze and two white socks on her rears, while Joker looks a bit like “Pete,” the sock-eyed dog from the 1930’s Little Rascals movies and 1950’s television show. You know, the dog that Target remade into one of their logos? That’s Joker.

Growing up, I took my dog everywhere. If I biked, he or she ran alongside. When I played in ballgames, they would sit near the sidelines or go play with other dogs. In 7th and 8th grade, in then-rural Abington, Massachusetts, there wasn’t a day I walked all the way home from school without Queenie, my German Shepherd, greeting me somewhere along the shortcut I took through the woods. When I started to drive my own car, my dogs rode shotgun. I could take them into stores and banks and all sorts of businesses without a bother to anyone.

Most of my friends had dogs, so paying a visit usually meant bringing along a playmate. Collars and tags? Sure, my dogs wore collars and tags. Their tags had their name on one side and my name, home phone number and address on the other. My Dad always kept up with all our pets’ shots, for their own good, not for any law or rule. But leashes? Never. Maybe I was lucky growing up, but I never owned a “bad” dog, one who would not stay, sit or come on command. Those are the three easiest things to teach a puppy, even a child can do it. And puppies are as eager to learn as young children are. My pups and I taught each other good manners, and with love and affection we learned what pleased each other. I’ve yet to take a dog to training, for anything, but I’ve known a lot of dogs – and dog owners – who needed training!

One of my earliest memories is riding on our Great Dane, Valorie, like she was a horse except I’m hanging onto her underside. According to my sister, Valorie taught me my first steps. I was rarely sick as a kid and allergic to nothing until I was teenager. Having my own dog at age ten, I learned early on it was a lot of work. It was a chore to groom, feed, pick up poop, pick off tics, de-skunk and clean small cuts on their noses from cat fights. But they never seemed like chores, and they were always bracketed with playtime.

When I started owning a home, I would leave one outside door open so my dog, or dogs, could come and go without disturbing me all the time. Jarvis was the biggest wanderer. Living in rural Northwestern Connecticut, he would roam for miles and be gone for hours. More than once, we got a call from a friend who lived about five miles away saying Jarvis was over there, playing with his dog, who happened to be Jarvis’s brother. Fine. He knew his way home, too.

And I’ve lost dogs before their time. Accidents. Sometimes with cars, sometimes with poisons like antifreeze. Queenie just vanished one day, that was the toughest of all because there was more anxiety in not knowing. It’s never easy and my initial, gut reaction every time is that’s it. No more dogs. No more heartbreaks. That would only last about two or three nights before I’d go puppy shopping.

Today, it’s different. Gracie and Joker have the run of the house and an 80 x 100-foot backyard to patrol, but they are never off the property without a leash. Except at the park, at sunup, most mornings, before the joggers are out. It makes my day, watching the sun rise and the dogs run. I’m not alone. The park is about 1,300 acres and often there a dozen dogs or more, running free. Not a leash in sight. Not on the dogs, anyway. Our town has a leash law, so all us owners carry leashes. Ironically, we wear them around our necks in case the nice policeman happens into the park.

Here, the dogs have the run of the wild. There’s a river that runs through it, and a pond with ducks to chase, and lots of natural woods and brush to explore.

I know all the dogs’ names but their owner’s names I sometimes get confused. All the canines get along, from Nadia, the Great Dane, to Taco, the Chihuahua, they play and scout together or just ignore each other. There are very few fights. When they do get gnarly, we give them a few seconds to solve it on their own, and they usually do. I can’t remember the last time we had to break up a dog fight. Us owners get along, too, as long we stay away from politics. We’re a mix of nurses, lawyers, bikers, shop owners and retirees. Some of us get together a few times a year for pizza and beer, but, really, we all have very little in common aside from our love of dogs.

Lately, I’ve had three dogs home with me a few days a week, including my son’s Maltese – Shih Tzu mix, “Trixie.” She’s a 14-week old fluff ball who is still finding her legs. She hops more than runs and can walk a few steps on just her rears while begging with her fronts. Trixie is as cute as a button when she does this, and at just three pounds she’s not much bigger! Gracie and Joker are very careful around Trixie. Gracie has adopted a motherly attitude, wagging her tail playfully as Trixie tries to catch it, and she allows Trixie to climb all over her. Trixie may be small but her little teeth are sharp. When she gets too friendly with her mouth, Gracie lets her know it! Joker is afraid of her unless Trixie is in my lap. On the floor, Joker runs away whenever she approaches. Joker likes to roughhouse and I think she knows Trixie is too fragile for her usual antics. Joker’s the same way with all the puppies at the park, too, regardless of size. Funny how they know.

Trixie has her own bed but prefers to sleep on a human, on my shoulder to be accurate. While I’m watching TV, she’ll fall asleep and snore in my ear, which makes me laugh. My laughter wakes her up, then she licks my ear and falls back asleep, and it starts all over again.

If they don’t allow dogs in Heaven, then, when I die, I want to go where they go.